


First Impressions

by SuchAFangirl



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:18:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3300659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuchAFangirl/pseuds/SuchAFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Justin first meets Brian Kinney, shopping with his son, he jumps to all the wrong conclusions. Brian plays along for the fun of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> written in 2009 for the QAF Gift Exchange on Livejournal

Justin eyed the man standing in the oils section, a wet dream straight out of his monthly GQ subscription (one of those Christmas gifts that turned out to be far better than initially anticipated). In an Armani suit, Prada loafers and, if Justin wasn't mistaken, a Paul Smith tie, he was comically conspicuous. Not at all the usual bohemian attire worn by the patrons of Utrecht Art Supplies. At the man's side was a young boy, about four or five years old by Justin's reckoning, another sight not seen often in the store. Usually busy businessmen left this kind of shopping to their wives.  
  
The boy clung faithfully to his father's hand as they inspected and discussed the brightly colored tubes. Justin listened as the colors he'd memorized from the stock sheet were given new names by young, innocent eyes who had a much more simplistic view of the world. Deep Cobalt Green became Daddy's 'Vette and Cadmium Red was given the infinitely more exciting title of Grandma Deb's Hair. Justin grinned at the thought of an older woman with bright red hair. Surely the kid was exaggerating.  
  
Brian looked at the myriad of paint tubes and knew he should have sent someone from the art department out to do this. He hadn't a clue where to start amongst the aisles of paints and brushes and paper. He picked up yet another tube of paint, turned it over in his hands and examined it carefully, drawing a blank from the minimalist labeling. Hadn't they heard of consumer information?  
  
Justin was certain the customer had no idea what he was looking for, but his browsing gave every indication that he was a man who equated quality with price. Though that was certainly true of the $40 tube of Old Holland in the man's hand, the thought of it being used by a preschooler to paint Grandma Deb's portrait made Justin shudder. Probably in the same way Cadmium Red on that enviable suit would make its wearer shudder. Funny as it was watching this fish out of water fumble his way through what could possibly be the biggest mistake of his life, Justin figured it was time to put the man out of his misery and he walked over to render some assistance.  
  
"Good morning," he greeted the pair with a smile. "Is there anything I can help you with?"  
  
Brian looked up, and was about to open his mouth in response when an excited voice beat him to it. "Daddy's buying me some paints. Really good ones!"  
  
Justin addressed the confident young artist. "Well, aren't you a lucky boy?"  
  
"Yep," he replied with a mile-wide grin. "Dad's gonna let me paint pictures while he finishes his important work."  
  
"Really?" Justin looked at the Brian quizzically. "At your Daddy's office?" he asked, addressing the father more than his son.  
  
It wasn't as if Brian had planned it at all. Mel's mercy dash to her mother's had thrown everyone's lives into chaos. "An unexpected emergency," Brian offered as a way of explanation. "I need something to keep him busy for a couple of hours."  
  
"Well, in that case, I think you're looking in the wrong section. These are all oils, and any accidents are likely to become a permanent part of your office décor."  
  
"We don't want that, do we Gus?" Brian replied, looking down at his son who responded with a definitive shake of his head. They both looked at Justin, "What would you suggest?"  
  
"I know just the thing," Justin replied. "Come with me."  
  
 _Love to_ , Brian thought devilishly, but unfortunately now was not the time, nor the place. He chased any devious thoughts quickly from his mind, along with the smirk that fleetingly curled his lips. Brian gestured for Justin to lead the way, and as he followed, he indulged in the sight of the finest ass he'd seen in a good while. Perhaps a time and place could be arranged. Soon.  
  
"Here," Justin said, stopping to pick up a packet of crayons from the shelf. He handed them over to Brian. "These are watercolor crayons. You draw with them as normal, and then brush the drawing with water to turn it into a painting. At worst you might have a water spill to clean up, and if any marks get on your desk, they'll wash off easily."  
  
"What do you think, Gus?" Brian consulted his son.  
  
"Yeah!" he squealed excitedly, giving the idea a literal thumbs up.  
  
Brian smiled at his son's delight. "I guess that means we're taking them. What else do we need?"  
  
"Just paper and brushes." Justin efficiently selected the required items from the shelves and gave them to Gus. "I think that's everything."  
  
Brian pulled out his wallet and handed Justin his card, "Can I charge that?"  
  
"Certainly," he smiled, and led them over to the register to finalize the sale. He handed Gus the wrapped goods, and gave Brian back his card. "Thank you, Sir. I hope that does the trick."  
  
"I feel like I should be thanking you. This could have been a very costly exercise, in more ways than one."  
  
"That was selfishness on my part. My artist's sensibilities couldn't let a child paint with oils that I can barely afford myself. Besides, Giorgio Armani would never have forgiven me if I'd let you walk out of here with that tube of Cadmium Red."  
  
A smile tugged at Brian's lips. It seemed the blond with the perfect ass might actually have paid him more than a casual glance. "Both Mr. Armani and I will be forever in your debt."  
  
Justin wasn't sure if it was the easy rapport they'd adopted, or the man's god-damn charming smile, but he surprised himself when he took one of his exhibition fliers from the countertop and handed it over. "Buy a painting, and we'll call it even."  
  
Brian recognized Sidney Bloom Gallery's flier and smiled even wider. This was all too easy. "Would it be a wise investment?"  
  
"I guarantee it," Justin replied boldly. "The opening is tonight if you'd like to come. I can add your name to the guest list."  
  
"Thanks for the offer, Justin, but I'm tied up tonight." He placed a hand on Gus's head and gentle ruffled his hair. "Mommy has to go to work, and Gus and I will be sharing some male bonding time."  
  
An unusual disappointment fell over Justin, it felt like a significant opportunity was slipping away. Inexplicably, after spending only a few minutes with him, Justin wanted this stranger to own one of his paintings. "Well, if you get the chance, maybe you and your wife could drop by the gallery some other time," he said softly.  
  
Brian suppressed the reflexive laughter that almost burst forth at the mention of the word  _wife_. It seemed Gus's presence was upsetting the status quo, because if Brian's gay-dar was right (and it was never wrong) the cute blond artist should have handed over his phone number already. Brian resigned himself to the circumstances; it was no use trying anything now. Besides, there'd be another opportunity very, very soon. "We might just do that," he said with a knowing smile. "Thank you, Justin."  
  
As he left the store, Brian felt a little bad about the deception he'd created. In essence he hadn't lied, Brian and Gus did have some father/son activities planned, and Lindsay was busy opening an exhibition at the gallery (in fact, she was there now, hanging the last of Justin Taylor's pieces). It wasn't Brian's fault that Justin had wrongly assumed Gus's mother would also be his wife.  
  
~*~  
  
Justin hated gallery openings at the best of times, but this, the first show of his own, took things to a whole new level. While Justin found most of his fellow artists fun, creative and highly inspirational, he'd had little to do with the people on the other end of the food chain: the buyers. The ones he'd seen tonight were self-important bores, and if Justin had to discuss his inspiration or technique with another person who really couldn't care less, he'd run from the gallery screaming.  
  
He couldn't complain about the sales though, Lindsay had been taking checks all night and several pieces had sold before the doors were even open. The gallery had connections with some of Pittsburgh's wealthiest, many of who were happy to buy on recommendation, thus avoiding the ritual that was Justin's present hell.  
  
Thankfully things seemed to be winding down to a close, and Justin had paid his dues to the few people who still remained, so he retreated to a quiet corner of the gallery for some much needed solitude. He sat and listened as the ambient noise diminished until the only sound left was the echo of Lindsay's heels on the hardwood floor. Justin breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"They do get easier," Lindsay sympathized as she approached him.   
  
"I certainly hope so."  
  
"You managed to charm more than a few people into buying, so despite your reservations, I'd say you're pretty good at this game."  
  
"So, how many did I sell?"  
  
"All but two."  
  
"And that one?" Justin asked, pointing to his favorite piece, the largest canvas in the show. He'd set the price high, hoping that it wouldn't sell.  
  
"That was the first to go."  
  
"Oh," he said quietly, regret written all over his face. "Who bought it?"  
  
"Don't worry, Justin, it couldn't be in better hands. He's actually a friend of mine who has a small, but rather enviable collection that includes a stunning Lukacs. He saw the painting yesterday, loved it, and wrote out the check immediately."   
  
Justin was taken aback. "That places me in rather good company!" Lukacs' work was significant, you couldn't be a gay artist in the North East and not have heard of his provocative male nudes. Justin's painting was clearly in very good hands, and the sale was suddenly a little easier to take.  
  
"And I don't think it will be long before you see similar success."  
  
"Will I get to avoid gallery openings then?"  
  
"I'm afraid not. They go with the territory, Justin."  
  
"Shit!" he returned in jest, rolling his eyes for effect, making Lindsay laugh. "Are we all done here? Can I head home?"  
  
"Sure. I'll be in touch later in the week." Lindsay had barely gotten the words out when the throaty hum of an engine could be heard from outside. "Oh, wait a sec. That will be Brian, the one who bought your painting."  
  
Justin turned around and through the windowed entrance of the gallery he saw a tall figure rise out of a Corvette. A Deep Cobalt Green Corvette. The man opened the passenger's door, lifted out a sleeping child cocooned in a blanket, and walked towards the door that Lindsay now held open for him.  
  
"Here you go, Mommy," Brian said as he carefully transferred Gus into his mother's arms. He looked toward Justin and grinned. "And hello again, Mr. Taylor." Brian crossed the room, his gaze unmistakably predatory as he closed the distance between them. Brian's suit was gone, but in its place was an equally lethal combination of jeans and a slim-fitting white T-shirt. Justin felt an instinctive response in his pants.  
  
Brian held out his hand in greeting "Brian Kinney," he stated matter-of-factly. Justin shook it, gripping firmly despite feeling like a bowl of Jell-O on the inside. Knowing the man's name didn't even begin to unravel the puzzle in Justin's head.  
  
"Gus's father?"  
  
"Yes"  
  
"Lindsay's friend?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Not her husband?"  
  
"What is this? An inquisition?"  
  
"So, there's no wife?"  
  
Brian laughed. "No, and there never will be. Now, if you're done with the questions, I have one of my own." His hands fell to Justin's hips and he drew him nearer.  
  
"And what would that be?" Justin teased with a smile. His confusion dissolved and the confidence he'd had earlier that day returned.  
  
"My place, or yours?" came the welcome invitation.  
  
"Definitely yours. We need to discuss where to hang your new painting."   
  
~*~  
  
Brian's back arched off the bed as Justin took him deep into his warm mouth. Ten years, and Brian was still responding to the man just as he did the first night he took him home. His hands slid deep into Justin's hair, caressing the blond strands as Justin's tongue expertly orchestrated Brian's release. It flicked skillfully around the head, then firmly tracked its path downward as Justin again took Brian deep within his throat. Brian cried out, vocalizing the pleasure mounting in his body. Justin knew Brian couldn't hold out any longer and with a swallowing motion, sucked gently on his cock, the sensation taking Brian over the edge. His hands tightly gripped the soft hair at Justin's neck as Justin's mouth savored every last drop of come.  
  
A trail of soft kisses marked Justin's journey up Brian's body as he made his way to Brian's lips. They kissed deeply, relishing the moment, their passion, the flavor of their bodies combined.  _Nothing beats this. Nothing_.  
  
Justin curled himself into Brian and rested his head on his partner's chest. He listened contentedly as Brian's heartbeat slowed to normal. They lay in comfortable silence, looking out of the bedroom to the far wall. The painting stared back at them.  
  
To Brian it was the explosion of color behind his eyes the moment he came deep inside Justin's ass. For Justin, it was the happiness he'd been searching for, and then found by Brian's side.  
  
But on one thing they did agree, there was no place more perfect to hang it.


End file.
